


Smooth Criminal

by shipcat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bondage, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, He deserves his own warning, Hidan is humiliated, Kakuzu is kind of a huge fucking dick, Light BDSM, M/M, Sexual Humor, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/pseuds/shipcat
Summary: Hidan tells Kakuzu how much money strippers make, and Kakuzu decides to become an exotic dancer. Irritated at Kakuzu’s new training routine, Sasori gets revenge by letting it slip that exotic dancers make more money for lap dances, suggesting that Hidan is an expert in the matter of receiving such private services. This is the aftermath.“Are you done yet?” Kakuzu asked, before the last prayer left his mouth.Hidan ignored him, and instead continued washing his hands. He scratched at a couple of stubborn dried blood stains, before letting the warm water run in between his fingers and under his nails. Then he grabbed the towel and wiped his face, hair, and arms dry, privately thinking his partner’s pants hung too low around his hipbones, and that must be a crime somewhere, too.





	Smooth Criminal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sintero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/gifts).



> Based on [this post on Tumblr.](https://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/post/172690640042/if-hcs-are-open-which-akatsuki-members-would-be)
> 
> This fic is for the lovely [WrithingBeneathYou](https://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/), as none of this would have been possible without their _AMAZING_ drawings, some of which are featured in the fic below. 
> 
> (Warning: one of those drawings is very NSFW, so I would not read this in a public place if I were you.)

 

One good thing about Kakuzu becoming a stripper, is that no one bitches at Hidan for not wearing a shirt anymore. 

Hidan, at least, had several good reasons for not wearing tops; first, they got in the way of his rituals; second, Kakuzu refused to buy more, citing them as “not in the budget” even after the fucker destroyed them in battle; and last, hiding the gorgeous body that Jashin had made for him was a crime against humanity and several small countries, punishable by death, but not the fun, permanent kind of death that ends with Hidan ascending to martyrdom and chilling with eighty-two bitches in paradise. 

But Kakuzu not wearing a shirt? That is a  _ different  _ kind of crime, one that Pein tolerates if only because the cash flow has significantly increased since  Kakuzu started getting stacked. Nowadays, Hidan spends more missions watching Kakuzu’s ass bounce than he does actually bounty-hunting. Hatred of headhunting aside, the fact that he now has to  _ look _ for proper sacrifices is irritating as all hell.

And Kakuzu, without a shirt? Is a temptation, a distraction, a prank gone horribly, wonderfully, wrong.

Case in point: Five minutes ago, Kakuzu had entered their shared bathroom, hair spilling over his well-defined pectorals, and just. 

Fucking. 

Stared.

Hidan scowled at Kakuzu, before turning back to the sink, reciting hymns under his breath as he performed his afternoon ablutions, also shirtless. Kakuzu’s reflection watched him with dark red-green eyes, stitch-marked muscles rippling as he leaned against the doorway and waited for him to finish. 

“Are you done yet?” Kakuzu asked, before the last prayer left his mouth. 

Hidan ignored him, and instead continued washing his hands. He scratched at a couple of stubborn dried blood stains, before letting the warm water run in between his fingers and under his nails. Then he grabbed the towel and wiped his face, hair, and arms dry, privately thinking his partner’s pants hung too low around his hipbones, and that must be a crime somewhere, too.

“Yeah, I’m done. What do you want?”  _ And make it quick _ , Hidan thought,  _ ‘cause you fucking know I gotta go find an offering for Jashin. _

Kakuzu tilted his head to the side, similarly impatient. “Your opinion.”

“My... opinion?” Hidan raised a brow. “Since when do you give a crap about that?”

“Since you became useful.”

“I am  _ always _ useful,” Hidan pointed out. “You’re just an ass.”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes and turned away, telling the Jashinist to come to his quarters. 

Curiosity won over his wariness - after all, it wasn’t every day that Kakuzu needed his help - and, with a shrug, Hidan followed him to the room, where soft jazz music was playing from some hidden speaker. The room was stark, containing only a desk pushed against the far wall, a well-made bed and two end table bookcases with neatly arranged scrolls. 

The only thing out of place was a single velvet chair standing in the center of the room, pilfered from the last club that had employed his partner. He wondered if Kakuzu had brought it back to the base to replace the interrogation chair which Hidan had previously broken. Looking at it was enough torture, in his opinion.

“You need my advice on interior decorating, huh?” Hidan grinned cockily. “For starters, you can get rid of this fugly-ass chair. Then you can add some fur rugs, some sexy as  _ fuck _ neon lights, preferably red, and a mini bar, maybe some pinup posters of some hot ch -”

“No.” Kakuzu closed the door, then lowered the lights with a dimmer switch. 

“Ah. Really?” As a mask peaked at Hidan from behind said ‘fugly-ass’ chair, glowering at him as if it was personally offended. 

“Fuck.”

The next thing he knew, a wave of threads had burst from the mask, dragging him back and binding his limbs to the arms and legs of the chair. 

“Fuck!”

“Not quite.” Kakuzu crossed his arms and approached the chair, fingers tapping his bicep in tune with the crooning saxophone, the thundering of Hidan’s pulse, the heart-mask sighing hotly into his ear.

The Jashinist glared up at him. “You know, if you’re going to kill me, you could have just said so.”

“Not that either.” Kakuzu bent down until he was at eye level with Hidan, long, inky hair sticking to the Jashinist’s still wet chest. He tugged on the threads wrapped around Hidan’s torso, tightening them until he could hardly breathe, let alone respond. 

“This is just practice for private dances,” Kakuzu said, stepping back, hips swinging with the brass of the jazz band, and ran his hands down his own chest, from his collarbones to his navel; obliques shifting, abs twitching, nipples perking under his touch. His thumbs hooked under the band of his criminally low pants, noticeably tighter than they were moments before. “But I can always kill you later.”

Hidan stared at him, wide-eyed, as the pants slipped down. His fingers whitened, nails digging into the fabric of the arm rest, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Then he smirked.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?”

Kakuzu stilled, pants hovering at the end of a trail of coarse navel hair. His red-green eyes flicked down at Hidan’s lap, then back up at his face, stitches curled up approvingly. “A promise,” he said. 

At that, Kakuzu lifted his foot and stomped down between Hidan’s legs, splintering the seat of the chair and narrowly missing the man himself. 

" _ Fucker _ .” Hidan inhaled quickly. “You've been promising that for over a year now.”

“As soon as i figure out how to kill you…”

Kakuzu bowed down, fingers brushing Hidan’s thigh, as he made a show of taking off his sock, revealing fishnet stockings underneath, before switching legs and undoing the other. This time, his toes strayed dangerously close to Hidan’s penis, so much so that his knuckles bumped against it as Kakuzu casually undressed himself.

Hidan swallowed wetly. “So, why haven’t you killed me then?” The music swelled, a long sensual saxophone note resonating throughout his body. “You know, if I were anyone else, I would almost think that you  _ liked _ me - “ 

He sputtered as Kakuzu threw the socks at his face. “Shut up and enjoy this.”

Half-kneeling on the chair, Kakuzu drew in close to his partner, abdominal muscles contracting as he moved his chest in circular motions, never quite reaching, never quite touching. His pants fell lower and lower with undulation, revealing a harness of black rope and a thick metal ring shining around the base of his cock.

“Is that a cock ring? For me?”

“No.” Kakuzu stopped, then tugged those horrible pants down.

“A fucking - a fucking  _ chastity cage!?” _

Kakuzu nodded with some amusement. “Obviously.”

Hidan wasn’t sure if this made his partner more or less of a prude. “Doesn’t that seriously…?“

“Hurt. Yes.” Kakuzu tucked himself back into his pants, then removed himself from the seat, stretching his muscles as he paced around Hidan, dark brown nails skimming his chest, then shoulder, then back. “That’s the point.”

“Holy shit.” Hidan threw his head against the neck rest. “Holy  _ shit.” _

Behind his him, Kakuzu chuckled. Hidan heard the sound of fabric dropping down. A footstep, two. Out of the corner of his eye, the pants flying through the air and crumpling to the ground. Something hard touched him through the hole in the back of the chair - the cage, icy cold and searing Hidan’s skin. By Kakuzu’s sharp intake of breath, Hidan could tell that it hurt. That was the point, after all.

He tried to turn around, only to be thwarted by the threads affixing his head to the chair, and his gaze to the front of the room. 

_ Fucking tease _ , Hidan thought, grumbling in frustration. Hands grasped his shoulders, tanned fingers dipping under his collar bone. “You bastard,” he said. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” 

“It’s only practice,” Kakuzu insisted, even as he indulgently squeezed the back of the other’s throat, grinding against him with such fervour that Hidan can’t help but imagine his partner taking it further - wrenching him from the chair and fucking Hidan to that same  _ damned  _ jazz music - peaking in an explosion of brass and passion and fury before, gently, fading away… 

The song stopped, and so did the fantasies. Kakuzu’s touch danced down Hidan, playing his arms and chest like piano keys, before withdrawing himself entirely. “Let’s restart the music, then.”

“Yeah, whatever. Okay.” Hidan pretended that he did not notice the absence. “Do it.”

Kakuzu appeared again near the side of the chair, just inside the edge of his vision, turned in such a way that Hidan could only see the four large, x-shaped patterns where his masks usually sat. He leaned over his desk to fiddle with the settings of the music. 

Fine black rope adorned his lower body, intricate knots indenting the firm flesh of his ass; then, on his lower thighs, dark fishnet stockings poured out from his seams, weaving downwards in diamond shaped patterns; and worse of all, he had spread his legs so enticingly that Hidan could see the barest hint of that cursed cage - a glint of steel around his swollen testes.

“You’re taking too long,” Hidan complained, squirming slightly in his seat. It did nothing to relieve the pressure in his cock.

“Almost done.” A few beats of silence, and the music turned on. A more upbeat and desperate bebop booms from the speakers, but Hidan can’t hear it over own heart screaming in his chest and the sound of Kakuzu closing in.

The chastity cage was very well made, if entirely too small for Kakuzu’s monstrous size. Eight concentric metal rings, starting with a large one constricting his balls, another around the bottom of his penis, then six more running down its impressive length, held together by several straining leather straps. Each ring constricted the blood flow, squeezing his girth into several thick, reddened segments. 

A bronze hand traced the cage from top to bottom, flicking the engorged head. Kakuzu let out an exaggerated wince.

“That’s hot as hell,” Hidan breathed, eyes fixed on the pained expression. His jaw clicked shut. “Er, ignore that. What I meant to say was -” 

Kakuzu’s mouth twitched upward. “I thought so.” He pulled Hidan’s legs apart and rolled his body upwards, then slid out of the chair. Tossing his hair back, Kakuzu spun around, slung his arms around the other’s shoulders, hissing as he rubbed himself against the panting Hidan. 

This time when Kakuzu retreated, Hidan lurched after him, only to be yanked back to the chair, threads cutting into his wrists. He turned pink as he realized what he had done.

“For fuck’s sake, Kakuzu,” he sneered, tips of his ears crimson. “Hurry up and finish, so you can kill me already.”

Kakuzu pursed his lips and gave him a long, hard look, slipping his legs under the arm rests, standing over the man in a straddle. He pressed one finger against Hidan’s jugular, then two. His hand glided down over the soft hair on other’s chest and downwards, Hidan jerking up as Kakuzu palmed his tented pants, wet with pre-cum.

“Let’s finish,” Kakuzu said, voice deep as he undid the straps on his own swaying hips. “Then I’ll kill you.”

“And how are you gonna do that?”

"I’ll strangle you."  

Kakuzu grasped himself, exhaling through his teeth as his cock twitched against the chastity cage. 

Hidan licked his lips. "Yeah?"

"Stab you." Maintaining eye contact with Hidan, Kakuzu tugged off the metal around his balls and, pinching the ring at the tip off the cage, slowly stripped it from his body.

"Go on..."

"Cut your body into a hundred pieces and feed it to the wolves."

“Ahh.” Hidan choked on his moan. "Now you're going way too far -  **_MMPH!”_ **

Kakuzu shoved the cage into his mouth. 

“There. That’s better.”

Hidan snarled against the cage as Kakuzu tied it around him, patting his head condescendingly. Then, flashing his teeth, he descended into the chair, lowering himself until the back of his thighs rested on Hidan’s knees. 

Kakuzu wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, using the leverage to gyrate against him. “I would never do this to one of my clients,” he murmured, “but you are a lot more tolerable when you cannot speak.” 

The chair creaked as the dancer arched his back, chest glistening in the low light of the room, a bead of sweat and then pulled himself flush against Hidan, bouncing up and down his lap as the music shifted to a quick bass solo.

Hidan let out a muffled groan as the other’s erection rubbed against his still-clothed need, just as trapped as Kakuzu once was, and just as anguished, as engorged, as excited as Kakuzu was now. It was a sweet shared agony - one which complimented the humiliating taste of Kakuzu, metal and salt, and sent bolts of pleasure stabbing into his core.

_ Oh, no. _ Hidan panicked as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head.  _ No, no, no, oh  _ **_FUCK NO_ ** .

A lone bead of sweat trickled down Kakuzu’s sternum, slinking down the sharp valleys of his torso, into the dip of his navel. He tossed his head back and sighed - as if he hated this, as if this was all a huge chore - before tightening his forearms around Hidan’s throat and roughly thrusting the two together. 

Shame fed into arousal which bled into more shame, spending sparks of desire bursting under his skin. It was the sort of wildfire that fed upon itself and everything around it, rising and rising until the heat of his partner and his heartstrings became too much to bear - 

Kakuzu squeezed his eyes shut, grunting in obvious pain, and it was all over.

* * *

When Kakuzu looked down again, Hidan was deathgripping the chair. His chest heaved, lungs burning with effort as he wheezed through the cage, saliva leaking out his half-closed mouth and down his chin. Blood welled at the ends of his fingers, where he had cracked his nails down to the bed, and plopped down, bright red with oxidation.

Kakuzu looked at the wet stain in front of his pants. “Already?” 

_ Dear Jashin. Are you there? It’s me, Hidan.  _

Hidan snapped his head to the side, body flushed from head to toe.

_ How many rituals does it take to get a little smiting thrown down upon this bitch of a planet? Five, ten?  _

“Hmm.” A large weight lifted away from his legs. Hidan dared to glance at his partner, only to be caught by his scorching red-green eyes.

_ ‘Cause, uh…if you could strike me down, that would be great. _

Hidan held his stare for a ten long, miserable seconds, face glowing brighter and brighter with each passing moment. 

“It seems my training has paid off.” Kakuzu slowly said, dissatisfaction heavy in his voice.  

There was an awkward pause between them as the two listened to the jaunty jazz tunes, punctuated by the startling beat of blood against the floor.

_ l know we are all about suffering and despair and all that shit, but, uh - isn’t this a bit much? _

“Even I can’t kill a man in this condition.” Shaking his head, Kakuzu stepped away and gathered his pants, jaw tight with some unknown emotion.  Hidan couldn’t help but notice that Kakuzu still had a huge fucking boner, even as he picked up Hidan’s abandoned towel, fishnets retreating into his body. “ I’m going to shower.  If you have any talent as a shinobi, you would escape before I return.”

_ Jashin???  _ **_Jashin!?_ **

Kakuzu snorted softly, hand on the bedroom door handle.

“Then again, I doubt it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just as an FYI: Writhing, the artist, is currently [open for commissions here](https://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/post/173202664012/writhingbeneathyou-howdy-folks-commissions#notes). I would check them out if I were you.  
>    
> Writing-wise, if you liked it, please leave a kudos or comment below; or, contact me on Tumblr [@thatshipcat](https://thatshipcat.tumblr.com).


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